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Dope's Hope's

Cutting of the shrugging, no fix for my running and cunning mugging,
hunting, but rushing to get the first judging for my fussing, so I can get back to loving.
Horoscope used to talk about dope, now I gotta cope with my tropes isotopes,
misanthrope friends only feel hope while they play with their telescope, still it's only a nope for a smoke from my occipital lobe, even if they mope.
Blasphemous, what a big word for the scandalous smoker of fatuous cannabis, yet they think of it as alchemists miraculous.
Dealing was a bit unappealing, but when I was unreeling I felt like unsealing this appealing,
winning made me like living, only the beginning, because I ended up clinging to my giving.
Drugs made me one of the thugs, still, had to worry about the lungs,
clubs, butts and huts made me smile, too bad, still only made it a mile.
Informed, but I was ignored because I was forged horned,
felt more like I was installed, preformed then transformed.
Membership was hip, ended up getting editorship censorship,
credit talked like a parrot, it was apparent that I feel at last embarrassed.
Held my head high, spelled out my verbs, making them really burns.
Betrayal is like a fatal portrayal, your own a disgraceful mislabel.
At least my priest was briefed, I was released, I was always always decreased to predecease, still I was unleashed.

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